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K issing her husband made her feel more alive than even running in the heather fields with the boys, and she did it fervently, burying her fingers in his hair as he groaned into her mouth.

Their kiss was harried and hungry, and there was something else she couldn’t place. But she did not care to think about it. He pulled her into his chest, but she pushed against him till she was lying atop him, her legs on either side of his hips.

He grinned up at her, running a hand through her hair.

“Ye are so beautiful,” he purred. “I cannae believe ye’re mine.”

He pulled her face down to his, kissing her long and hard and groaning into her mouth. She felt the tenderness with which he held her and kissed him back, letting her mouth express everything she wished she could say out loud.

He turned them so she now lay beneath him, and his hands began to roam over her body till they were both breathless with need and clawing at each other’s clothes.

He undressed her first, and even though it was not the first time he would see her naked, she felt fully bare beneath him, as if he knew all her secrets. She moved to cover herself with her hands, but he stilled her.

“Nay,” he protested. “Dinnae cover yerself. I want to see ye.”

She lowered her hands, but it did nothing to quell her unease.

He palmed her face softly, then his hand trailed down her body, missing all the spots that ached for his touch.

“Something’s different,” he noted with a pointed glare. “Have I offended ye, wife?”

“Nay!” she blurted. “Why do ye ask?”

He smiled softly and sat back on his haunches, which caused her to rise as well.

“Ye are hiding from me. Why?”

She lowered her eyes and worried her lip.

“There are nay longer any secrets between us, wife. Ye can tell me,” he urged.

She closed her eyes, steeling herself for the rejection that was sure to follow her request.

“May I see ye?” she asked, unable to meet his eyes.

He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted up her face. “I dinnae understand,” he said with a frown.

“I…” She swallowed, lifting a hand to his shirt.

He watched her as she fiddled with the buttons at his collar, understanding creeping into his gaze.

“I have been… curious, and I…”

He laughed softly, kissing her wrist. “‘Tis nae a pretty sight, I’m afraid,” he told her, trying to lay her back down.

“Nay,” she protested. “I dinnae care. I want to see ye.”

He moved to undo her stays, but she stilled his hands.

“I will undress ye, husband,” she insisted, moving closer to him. “Instruct me.”

He guided her on what to do, and when she was done, she pulled his shirt over his head, biting her lip at how beautiful he was.

She eyed the broad shoulders that had been honed by years of toil and bore the weight of responsibility, and let her hands caress them gently, hoping to offer comfort with her touch.

Then, her hands moved to his scars, first the one at his right breast close to his nipple. He hissed when her finger brushed it, and she did it again, loving how he reacted to her touch.

She was aware of his eyes on her, but she did not dare look at him, lest she lose her courage and let him pleasure her.

Her hands moved to his other breast, which bore a long scar that ran down to his abdomen. His body tightened at her touch, and she was mesmerized by the way his muscles flexed under his skin.

He was so much different from her; hard where she was soft, scarred where she was smooth with a light dusting of freckles. His scars spoke of the effort he had put into protecting their home, and she was moved to kiss each one.

He hissed when she kissed the scar on his left breast, but made no move to touch her. She eyed his hands at his sides, which he had clenched into fists. The sight brought a smile to her face, which she struggled to hide.

“Wife,” he whispered in warning, “ye torture me.”

She felt the same when he caressed her, but she didn’t want to trade words with him.

She moved to the next scar, the long one that ran down his abdomen, and kissed it like she had wanted to. But when she neared the edge of his kilt, he pulled her up and slanted his mouth over hers.

“Ye have tortured me enough, wife. I want to taste ye now,” he growled, pushing her onto her back. “‘Tis me turn to feast on ye.”

His movements were rough, but she didn’t mind as long as she distracted him from the worries that plagued him.

“I am yers, husband.”

Her words had him groaning against her neck as he nipped a quick path down to her breasts, which had become his new favorite part of her. Since the cèilidh, he had done nothing but worship her breasts, marking them with his teeth so anyone who dared to look upon her would know that she was his.

She let out a gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders, which had him nipping her harder. Her back arched, causing him to grin.

His usually graceful wife was uninhibited in her response to his caresses, and he much enjoyed how his touch brought this wild side of her.

It was a very beautiful sight indeed, and it was only for his pleasure.

She had been bold with her caresses, but had stirred something within him that she should never have awoken. Her touch had been like fire against his skin, searing and branding him yet filling him with life till he felt his cock would tear through his kilt.

He kissed down her abdomen to her core, where he knew he would find her warm and inviting.

He groaned as her scent hit him first. She smelled sweeter than ever, and he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to her scent.

He forced himself past the flesh begging for his attention, kissing his way up from her calf, leaving gentle nips and caresses as he went until he finally came to her center. She had thought to please him with her kisses, but she had only tortured him, and he wanted to return the favor.

She was quivering already, but she remembered to keep her legs open this time. He smiled, unable to help himself. He so desperately wanted to see if she’d remember to when his tongue was between her folds.

“Remember, I dinnae want ye to stifle yer cries,” he warned. “I want to hear ye.”

She nodded, whimpering when he used the fingers of one hand to part her folds and leaned forward to take his first taste. He had promised to go easy on her, but as soon as he had tasted her on his tongue, there was no way he could hold himself back from savoring her fully.

Grabbing her thighs to hold them apart, he feasted on her, enjoying the feel of her fingers tangling in his hair as she struggled between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

He gave particular attention to her throbbing nub, and she shot up like he had expected her to, on a scream he knew the entire castle would hear.

He was almost dizzy with the taste of her when he pulled away, but she reached for him.

“How can I please ye?” she asked suddenly, startling him.

Already, he had begun to rise, thinking up how quickly he could return to his chambers and take care of his aching member.

His balls were heavy with need, and lust had him feeling as though he would explode any second.

“Ye have done well, little wife,” he told her.

He made to step back, but she put her hand on his thigh, and the bolt of heat that shot through him stilled him.

He had tried to refrain from looking at her, but his eyes traveled up her pale hand to her neck and then lower, and he bit his lower lip to stifle a groan.

She was so beautiful and so perfectly made for lovemaking that all he wanted to do was show her the many ways a man and woman could be with one another. But he knew he would not last very long if he gave in to temptation and slid into her warm sheath.

As much as the mere thought made him crave her more, he bit down the urge. The consequences of this one night of pleasure would have him playing to Darragh’s tune, and he did not want to give him the satisfaction.

The thought of his grandfather reminded Campbell why he could not afford to be weak, and he clenched his hands into fists to fight the rising wave of anger.

“Ye arenae here with me anymore,” Mabel remarked, rising on her haunches. “Where did ye go?”

“Nay, I am here.”

She smiled and moved closer to him.

“I ken I am inexperienced in these matters, but…” Her hand trailed from his shoulder to his chest and then his abdomen, which caused heat to pool lower. He watched her hand skim over his engorged member and stop at his thigh. “I can learn.”

She bit her lip and cocked her head at him, and that was his undoing.

He took her hand and placed it on his bulging member so she was aware of what she had asked for. Her eyes went wide, and his darkened when she stroked him through his kilt.

He certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

“Ye are verra large,” she murmured, squeezing him softly. “Is it supposed to…”

“Aye.”

She stared at the bulge in wonder. “May I see ye?” she asked.

“Ye will have to undress me yerself.”

She nodded and followed his instruction, and when he was fully naked, the wonder in her gaze had him feeling as though he would spill his seed right there and then.

Now, she was kneeling on the edge of her bed, watching him with a hungry expression.

She took him in her hand again, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

At that moment, he wished she would take his cock into her sweet, little mouth. But she was innocent, and he didn’t want to scare her just yet.

“Ye are beautiful,” she said, squeezing him again. “May I taste ye as ye’ve tasted me?”

A bolt of heat shot through him at her words, and pearly liquid beaded on the tip of his cock.

He knew there was no stopping her now, so he taught her how much pressure to apply and how to move, biting down his groans when her fingers brushed the crown of his cock.

Soon, she picked up speed, and he was involuntarily thrusting into her hand. When he needed more pressure, he took himself in his hands and squeezed and tugged, picturing her sweet little mouth around him.

He felt his release shoot out of him in thick, hot ropes, but he didn’t stop pumping his member till it softened in his hands. When he opened his eyes, he saw his seed splattered across her chest—a most erotic sight that stirred his lust anew.

It would be too easy to forget that he had sworn he wouldn’t lose himself in her. Instead, he headed to the washbasin and picked up a cloth so he could wipe her clean. When he was done, he began to dress.

“Will ye nae stay?” Mabel asked, watching him put on his shirt.

He had looked beautiful chasing his pleasure, and she wanted to spend more time admiring his form.

He turned to her, his answer evident in his gaze before he uttered a word. He shook his head mournfully.

She knew better than to hope that he would stay, but his rejection stung, nonetheless. She nodded and pulled the bedcovers tighter around her chest.

“I will see ye at the morning meal, then,” he muttered.

His insistence on not claiming her, even if he sought to give her pleasure often and tortured himself in the process, told her that he would never accept her fully as she had accepted him, and he would never love her like she loved him.

“Ye can rise a little later,” he suggested. “I will ask the maids to leave ye be.”

“Nay,” she blurted. “I will rise early. I must see to the boys and make sure they are doing well.”

He looked as though he wanted to protest, but then he nodded and took his leave. She did not want any more thoughtful gestures from him, not when it would only have her falling deeper in love with him.

When the door closed, the first tears spilled over till she was sobbing into her pillow. She wished that he had treated her just as his friend treated her sister, so she would have had no reason to develop the feelings that were now clawing at her chest, itching to be expressed and reciprocated.

“Because I feel guilty.”

She remembered the words he had told her and finally understood the guilt he felt. He blamed himself for never trying to meet his brother, and now, everything he couldn’t do for him, he would do for his sons.

He was so honorable that her heart soared, which brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.

She wept long into the night, wondering how she would keep from falling deeper for the man who held her heart, even though he did not want it.

Campbell knew he had hurt his wife by refusing to stay with her. But even though he had found his release, he still wanted her with a ferocity that would not allow him to control his lust if he slept beside her beautiful, naked form.

She had been willing in her desire, and her responses had driven him to the point of madness, where he wanted nothing more than to sink himself into her warmth just to hear her cries of pleasure.

Her voice was a sweet song that sparked lust in him and haunted his dreams, and he knew he would struggle to find sleep that evening. He had not even expected to touch her, but when she had kissed him, he felt his desire surge like never before.

It was not just lust driving him to pleasure her, but gratitude for ridding him of the dark cloud that had hovered over him since he had returned to his castle to find Darragh threatening his family.

Family.

The word was a little odd to describe the situation between them, but it was fitting, as that was the only thing he could use to describe them.

Somehow, he had made a home with them, and he felt… at peace.

Nonetheless, he had to shore up the castle defenses and tighten security.

Now that Darragh knew he cared for them, the man would stop at nothing to harm them. The insult he had received today wouldn’t go unpunished, but Campbell would ensure he protected his family even if it cost him his life.